


A Memorable Name

by orphan_account



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BTHB, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Electricity, Gen, Memory Loss, Pidge Angst, Pidge Whump, Pidge didn’t deserve this, my finger slipped oops, pidge centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: She absolutely despised the idea or something foreign entering her body without her knowledge, especially injections. It could be a poison, or a drug- she wasn’t certain if she wasn’t allergic, and she didn’t know if it was even compliant with human biology. In space she had always been extra cautious, more cautious than the boys. She’d scan every food before eating it, run diagnostics on all the medication on the ship, even running tests on the water pouches to make sure there were no harmful minerals.Or:Bad Things Happen Bingo: Memory Loss
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710424
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	A Memorable Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Etherithical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etherithical/gifts).



Contrary to popular belief, Pidge was indeed a human. She had emotions, and thoughts that ranged further than calculations and data. It definitely angered her when one of the other paladins joked about how inhumane she acted, or teased her for preferring to sit in silence.

But the silence that hung over the cell was too cold for her tastes, the stale air itched at the nape of her neck, sweat dotting her brow as she sat in the center of the small room.

Arms tied uncomfortably behind her back, shoulders boxed as her forearm twisted upwards to meet with her other hand in a position that resembled praying, but definitely came with a sensation from hell.

Her legs were tucked beneath her as she kneeled on the cold ground, stripped of the shin guards that would have kept the creeping ache at bay. Her ankles were tied together, bound tightly with no promise of escape. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, held shut by a metal plate that flowered into her jaw.

In other words, it was impossible to spit out or wiggle her way out of this one.

She grunted, attempting to find any purchase that would allow her to shift her arms into a more comfortable position, failing as the knots only seemed to grow tighter.

The green paladin groaned, instead choosing to take another sweep of her surroundings. The walls were barren, every now and then a small line where one panel ended and gave way to the next- but nothing worth taking note of. The ceiling was edged with purple lighting decals, illuminating the space with an unsettling violet warmth.

She let out a muffled yell, the pit in her stomach growing at the sound of footsteps approaching. The door abruptly slid open, a tall and slender Galran male entering the room. 

Her brows furrowed in thought as she wracked her brain for who this was. He was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place his name. What she did know was that he was an enemy who served the empire.

He flanked towards her, crouching on one knee as his finger trailed up her jaw, pausing as he pulled her chin to face him.

“You are the green paladin?” He cocked his head, roughly grasping her cheek and twisting her head to and fro. “I would have anticipated something larger,”

 _Your wife anticipated something larger!_ she attempted to shout, yet the gag left it as nothing more than an annoyed grumble. The Galran smirked, hoisting her upwards and against the wall.

“My name is Commander Throk, I hope that will be what you remember coming out of this,” he snarled, fingers digging into her neck. Pidge was unceremoniously tossed onto the ground, wincing as her shoulder was pulled painfully. 

What did he _mean_ by that? She shuddered as Throk’s hand fingered her hair, the honey strands slipping through his fingers like water. She hummed, twisting away from him.

“This will be fun,” Throk mused. “Lotor sent me to this outpost thinking that nothing would become of me, that I would be forced to live out my days in ashamed solitude- but _you_ will be my ticket back into the ranks,” she hated the way his eyes glinted by the end of his statement.

If she could coherently speak, she would be screaming as many profanities as possible in his direction. She wouldn’t comply with his orders, in fact she planned to make his life a living hell if he dared use her against the other paladins. Throk grasped her scalp, pulling her to her feet.

When he let go, she dropped right back onto her knees, mimicking a yawning noise behind the gag. She snickered as he growled in anger, watching his eyes slant in thought. 

He exited the room abruptly, the door hissing shut behind him. The green paladin froze, _that probably isn’t a good sign_ she thought to herself. The gag in her mouth felt heavy, the dread returning to her stomach as her shoulders squared back. Something didn’t feel right- aside from being captured by an angry Galran, she had a feeling that something _bad_ was going to happen to her.

Throk returned, looking just as he did when he left. Pidge made sure to check again, but he carried no visible threats. The Galran approached her, claws digging into her scalp as he pushed her completely to the ground.

Before she could lift herself up, Throk grasped her ankles and pulled them out from beneath her, dragging Pidge out of the cell. The green paladin squirmed relentlessly, fighting aggressively to free herself from his grip. The only thing Pidge found she earned from her attempt was a growing ache in her shoulders.

“The Galra have always spoken about our great abilities, what we are capable of if given the opportunity,” Throk began, the green paladin simply groaning in acknowledgement. “One of my _favorite_ accomplishments,” he paused. Pidge’s spine stiffened at how he had accentuated the word ‘favorite’. What had she gotten herself into?

“You shall see soon enough,” he remarked, dropping her legs. Pidge grunted at the sudden impact, eyes trailing to the door that had just closed. It was a room no larger than her previous cell, but this one had a rack of instruments along with a machine placed in the corner. 

Throk kicked her in the side. She yelped, skidding across the metal ground until her shoulders hit the wall. The paladin attempted to growl, but it came out as more of a muffled whimper. The Galran bent down, grabbing her jaw in one hand and fiddling with the gag in the other.

The flowering metal inside her mouth pinched shut, sliding out easily. Throk pulled out the ball of cloth, tossing it carelessly onto the ground. Pidge took a second to regain her composure before shooting a glare towards the commander.

“You’re going to regret ever messing with Voltron,” she hissed, swinging her body towards Throk. Her elbow hit his leg, but ultimately did nothing when she tumbled face-first into the floor. The way her arms were twisted, she couldn’t get herself back into a fighting position easily.

A hand pushed itself against the back of her head, grasping the roots of her hair and pulling back. 

“I do not believe I will. Victory or death, Vrepit Sa!” Throk exclaimed, wrapping _something_ around Pidge’s neck. She shifted uncomfortably, only to scream when Throk pulled on the end of whatever he was holding.

“What the quiznak is that?” She spat, biting her tongue when he tugged again. She wasn’t quite sure what exactly was happening, but she knew it hurt like a mother. Cold, sharp points pressed into the sensitive skin of her neck, and with every tug and jostle sent her into a whirlwind of pain.

Something warm trickled down her throat, a sticky string of blood dribbling downwards. Throk pulled harder, causing Pidge to bite back another yell of pain.

“This is my entertainment, after all nothing comes by this outpost. I might as well have a little fun before fulfilling my duties,” he maniacally chuckled, dragging the sharp wire against her skin before placing it onto the rack gently.

Pidge blinked, itching to wipe away the blood smeared on her neck- to get some way to just relieve the aching pain swelling at her throat. 

Throk’s idea of entertainment was definitely more sadistic and painful than a movie or video game. He found joy in _hurting_ others- and Pidge so happened to be the lucky duck who stumbled into his outpost. He picked up a long silver rod, which the green paladin quickly scanned for any signs of danger.

At the end of the rod, two little prongs poked outwards. She assumed this was for an electrical current, and from her experience with her bayard and tech projects- electrocution was not a fun Saturday activity. When she had accidentally done it to herself, it was only briefly yet still stung. Just thinking about it being used purposefully was enough to straighten her spine.

Throk stalked towards her, swinging the rod carelessly between his hands. Honey eyes melted with anticipated pain, scrunching shut as she braced for an electrical current to surge through her body- but it never came.

When she opened her eyes, the rod was swung into her humorous, eliciting a strangled scream and a sickening snap. The green paladin panted heavily, mentallt preparing for another aggressive swing. Instead, the two prongs pushed into her back.

Pidge threw her head back and _howled_ as white overtook her vision, flames engulfing every last nerve in her body. She felt like she couldn’t drag in enough air, her body expelling every last breath in a silent scream. Her leg began to twitch, torso wriggling wildly against the electrical inferno rushing through her body. Pidge knew it could have only been a few ticks, but to her it felt like vargas.

Throk pulled the rod away, the green paladin slumping to the ground as her muscles clenched tightly. Her mouth felt dry, her lungs felt empty. She coughed hoarsely, dragging in ragged breaths when she found the strength to. Sweat dripped with a mixture of blood from her face and throat, muddling together in a pale brown on the floor. The rod swung down on her ankles, her breath hitching once again.

“Lotor is expecting your assistance in a few varga, so I suppose it is time to begin preparations,” Throk sighed, sounding disappointed. _Disappointed in the fact he couldn’t torture her anymore? How sick was he?_

Pidge continued to pant, dragging in precious air like a drug. She swallowed back the thick lump that had grown in her throat, attempting to meet the commander’s gaze.

“I will _never_ help someone as _deranged_ as you,” she wheezed out through the pain overloading her system. Throk tilted her chin upwards, cold yellow eyes freezing on honey.

“I never said you’d be willing, or yourself,” he snarled. Pidge bit back another low whimper of fear, watching as he entered a few sequences into the machine in the room. A cylindrical tube hissed open, countless wires and screens surrounding it. Throk grabbed the ropes wrapped around her chest and hands, slipping them over a hook in the glass chamber.

Pidge writhed and squirmed, but it only hurt her arm or ankles when she tried something on the riskier side. Throk was behind her now, hands digging around her scalp, finding purchase at the nape of her neck. He lifted her curly locks, pushing something sharp just below her skull. The paladin’s eyes widened as a cold liquid gushed from the object- a _needle_. The liquid soon felt hot and heavy, extremely uncomfortable and foreign. Her breaths grew labored, and it was growing difficult to keep her eyes open.

She barely noticed Throk slip out of the chamber and seal the door shut. Pidge bit her lip- of all the times a paladin Voltron had ever fallen into the Galra’s hands, none of them had ever actually gotten hurt beyond a few bruises or scratches. In fact, Shiro seemed to be the only one capable of getting hurt on simple missions. She drew in a hitched breath, the injected liquid feeling warmer by the second.

She started to feel dizzy, a tad bit nauseous. Her head was swimming, memories floating about in a sea of agony. She scrunched her eyes shut, a headache splitting in her temple. She absolutely _despised_ the idea or something foreign entering her body without her knowledge, especially injections. It could be a poison, or a drug- she wasn’t certain if she wasn’t allergic, and she didn’t know if it was even compliant with human biology. In space she had always been extra cautious, more cautious than the boys. She’d scan every food before eating it, run diagnostics on all the medication on the ship, even running tests on the water pouches to make sure there were no harmful minerals.

So knowing that something had been injected into her bloodstream without her prior knowledge or consent was terrifying. She was fairly certain whatever it was is the root cause of the pain swirling through her head, but her base knowledge on drugs and symptoms were slipping from her mind. She was too tired to look at her captor, but her gut was warning her this was only the beginning. The edges of her vision were darkening, but she still struggled to hold onto consciousness.

Her throat felt raw, she hadn’t realized that she had been screaming. She panted heavily, tears pooling in her eyes and freely cascading down her face. Pidge’s chest seized, body twisting in desperation. The heat was growing hot, _too_ hot for her to bear. The darkness tugged on her eyelids, and she slipped into the peaceful abyss of unconsciousness.

It was dark, and unfamiliar. She was struggling to piece together what had led to her capture. Had she led Blue into a trap? No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t blue, she was green. If she was green, who was blue? Her head throbbed as she struggled to remember. She knew something was wrong, but couldn’t place it. 

She swam in obscurity, wondering why she was asleep. Something happened, right? She could vaguely remember pain, but it felt distant- like a dream. Was she dreaming at this current moment? Or was this just her reality? It felt wrong. She felt something warm and aggressive engulf her body, booming in the distance.

“Pidge!” a voice called out to her. The darkness faded, her eyes blinking open to look at the worried male before her. A single word floated into her mind. _Throk_.

“Commander Throk?” she responded, attempting to reach out but finding she couldn’t. _Weird_ she thought to herself. The man slipped behind her, muttering a mantra of a foreign word as his hands made work of removing her restraints. She dropped to the ground, yelping as a sharp pain shot up her legs. 

The strange man said that word again, crouching down to remove the ropes around her ankles all while apologizing profusely. She wanted to ask who he was, but found her throat far too dry to pull together a full sentence. 

He brought a hand to the side of his helmet, meanwhile she looked around the room. Objects were sprawled on the ground, glass shattered in myriads of pieces all about. Another man was slumped over a metal panel, unconscious and bleeding. _Throk_.

“I’ve got her, heading to Blue now,” the tall man spoke aloud. Was he talking to her? No, he didn’t use any vocabulary that applied to her. He bent down, eyes checking over her ankles. “Pidge, can you walk?” 

“Who?” She weakly whispered, looking around the room for anybody else who he could be talking to. She didn’t see anybody, looking him back in the eyes. “Who’s Pidge?”

“What did he do,” he paled, holding a hand to her forehead. “Do you remember me?” His eyebrows creased with worry.

“Should I?” Came her response. She tilted her head, carefully scrutinizing the person before her. He was tanned, ocean blue eyes piercing her gaze with calm and soothing waves of comfort. His brown hair was tousled, his eyes wide and mouth pressed into a line. Something nagged her to remember, but he wasn’t familiar.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so mean
> 
> Request a fic here: https://romwaeta.tumblr.com/post/619842979667017728/updated-bad-things-happen-bingo-card-feel-free-to


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